


Through It All

by cometomama66



Category: Jaspar-Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Emotional Baggage, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Roommates, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, pain as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12362721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cometomama66/pseuds/cometomama66
Summary: Joe is messed up on so many levels and Caspar is always ready to help.





	Through It All

Joe wakes with a start. He scratches at his skinny arms; the hair there is sticking up and he's covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He wipes at his face and it's wet; he's been crying. There's a weird ringing noise in his ears and his head is throbbing.

 

'Joe? Joe, you alright? You were screaming.' Had he been screaming? He hadn't realised. Caspar's still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair's sticking out and even disguised under the drowsiness Joe can see the tiredness in his eyes. He's a mess. Caspar reaches out and presses his abnormally large hands to Joe's face. He sees the moisture collect at the tips of Caspar's fingers; he was still crying.

 

'C'mere,' Caspar mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. 'Another nightmare?' he asks and his voice is so soft, Joe hates it. Caspar pulls Joe closer, wraps his gangly arms around Joe's shaking form. He doesn't think he needs Caspar's sympathy, but he still takes it.

 

'Caspar please.' His voice is quiet, he hates asking Caspar to do this because he knows Caspar hates it. But he's trembling like a leaf, his breathing is still ragged and the his brain is so so hazy, it's not letting him think staight. He hates this but that doesn't stop him from needing it.

 

Caspar looks him straight in the eyes. It's dark in his room, the grey masses of clouds blotting out the moon. But even so Joe can see the outline of Caspar's face, the bright blue of his eyes; like the rippling ocean under the midday sun. He sees the unspoken inquiry in them and he nods. 'Please Caspar, I need this.'

 

Caspar must have heard the desperation in his voice interlaced with the underlying pain because he immediately removes his hand from where it was stroking his arm. He slaps him. Joe's head swings to the side and he sobs with relief. Caspar slaps him again and it burns; he can already feel the greenish tinge of a bruise blooming on his cheek. A punch is delivered to his stomach then and it knocks the air out of his lungs. But as the air leaves his body so does the pain, the fear, the knot that had been twisting uncomfortably in his stomach. It's an unorthodox concept, he thinks, combatting mental hurt with physical pain, but it's a quick temporary remedy and it works.

 

There's another punch, to his bicep this time, and another slap. Caspar digs his nails into Joe's arms and a couple crescent-shaped marks later Joe can feel the fog clearing out of his mind. He's exhausted. Caspar's there of course, ready to hold him, press a kiss to his forehead and tell him he's got him. It awes him sometimes, how stupid and oblivious Caspar can seem and yet be completely understanding and non-judgemental of this shit that Joe puts him through. He often wonders if what he does to Caspar is alright, worries that with every punch or kick he takes from him he's also taking away that childlike innocence that Caspar radiated; but Caspar never says no, never demands an explanation, never asks why Joe's nightmares are a lot more frequent when his dad comes by.

 

Maybe one day he'll tell him, tell him about how his dad was never very nice to him and how everytime he touched him he left a bruise in his wake. He'd explain that he probably loved him but didn't know any other way to show it than to hurt him and how he had spent the first seventeen years of his life watching his father fawn over his sister and wishing he was more like her. He'd tell him about how scared he still was of his father, how whenever he was within ten feet of him he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, how when he had found out he was gay he'd called him a fag and told him he'd go straight to hell, following it up with a beating in order to prove his point. 

 

Joe had also always wanted to thank Caspar for everything he put up with. He wanted to apologise for every touch he flinched away from and every offer to talk about what was bothering him that he had denied. Maybe one day he will, maybe he'll even hug him and watch his eyes crinkle as he smiled that beautiful smile that was brighter than a hundred heavenly stars.

**Author's Note:**

> I realise that this is pretty fucked up.


End file.
